UC-NRLF 


$B    320    b03 


THG  SORROWS  OF  A 
RGD  CROSS  NURSE 


HERMAN  FREDERICK.  HE'GNeR 


%i 


*6  l.l&d. 


The    Sorrows    of   a 
Red    Cross    Nurse 


By 


HERMAN  FREDERICK  HEGNER 

// 


BOSTON 

RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

THE   GORHAM    PRESS 


•    • 


.     ■     ■   ■  • 


Copyright,    1919,   by   Herman   F.   Hegner 
All  Rights  Reserved 


MADE  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


THB    GORHA.M    PRESS.    BOSTON.    U.    S.     A. 


To  the  Noble  Wives  and  Mothers 
Who  offered  their  Loved  Ones 
Upon    the    Altar    of    World    Democracy 


M1919131 


FOREWORD 

Thousands  of  our  soldiers,  and  their  Allied 
comrades,  treasure  in  their  hearts  the  sweet  image 
of  some  Red  Cross  nurse  who  pulled  them  out  of 
the  shadows  to  go  over  the  top  again.  Nor  will 
they  ever  forget  the  cheerful  smiles  that  helped 
them  through  their  dark  hours,  the  sympathetic 
voices  that  read  the  dear  home  letter  to  them,  and 
the  occasional  patriotic  and  popular  songs  that 
cheered  their  convalescence.  Among  these  brave 
young  women  who  consecrated  their  lives  to  deeds 
of  mercy  were  many  faces  touched  by  a  shade  of 
sadness.  The  tragedy  of  their  own  hearts  deep- 
ened the  sympathy  and  love  that  ministered  to  the 
needy. 

"The  Sorrows  of  a  Red  Cross  Nurse"  is  the 
story  of  one  of  these  ministering  angels  whose  own 
sadness  added  a  touch  of  glory  to  her  work.  The 
struggle  between  sorrow  and  loving  service  in  her 
heart  proved,  however,  a  losing  battle  until  the 
patriotic  vision  of  World  Democracy  lifted  her 
above  the  clouds  of  grief. 

In  the  revealing  light  of  pure  patriotism  millions 
of  wives  and  mothers  who  laid  their  loved  ones 
upon  the  altar  have  likewise  risen  triumphant  over 
sorrow.  It  is  to  these  brave  and  loyal  souls  that  this 
poem  is  lovingly  dedicated.  "The  Sorrows  of  a 
Red  Cross  Nurse"  also  typifies  the  meaning  of  the 
World  War  through  these  four  years  of  frightful- 
ness.  Paralyzed  at  first  by  the  horror  of  it  the 
World-Mind,  as  revealed  in  the  simple  and  epoch- 
making  words  of  President  Wilson  and  other 
statesmen,  has  gradually  reached  the  mountain 
height  of  World  Democracy. 

— H.  F.  H. 


THE  SORROWS  OF  A  RED  CROSS  NURSE 


Sorrotvs  of  a  Red  Cross  Nurse 


INTRODUCTION 

The  tragic  death  of  Jules  Chapelle 

Most  sadly  I'm  constrained  to  tell — 

A  Belgian  peer,  who  traveled  far 

And  woed  a  bright  New  England  star 

With  beauty  rare  and  voice  so  sweet 

That  thousands  worshiped  at  her  feet. 

He  won  her  heart  within   a  year. 

They  planned  to  wed  where  they  could  hear 

His  old  ancestral  chapel  bell 

A  long  and  happy  life  foretell: 

So  to  his  native  Liege  away 

They  sped  to  greet  their  wedding  day. 


Sorrows  of  a  Red  Cross  Nurse 


Bright  gleamed  the  rugged  castle  walls, 
And  welcomes  shone  from  stately  halls 
To  peasant  cottage.     Happy  girls 
In  Sunday  frocks  and  raven  curls 
Strewed  fragrant  flowers  up  the  way 
To  glorify  their  wedding  day, 
And  twined  them  'round  the  altar  where 
The  priest  invoked  the  nuptial  prayer. 


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But  when  they  spoke  the  sacred  words 
That   Heaven's  guardian  saint   records 
They  listened — would  the  magic  bell 
A  life  of  wedded   bliss  foretell? 
'Twas  silent!  but  the  distant  sound 
Of   thunder  shook  along  the   ground! 
Pale  faces  whispered  in  dismay — 
"It  is  the  Kaiser  on  the  way 
To  Paris!"     Lo,  a  Teuton  shell 
Crushed  in  the  belfry,  and  the  bell 
Came  crashing  through  the  chapel  side 
Upon  the  altar,  and  the  bride 
Swooned  where  her  dying  bridegroom  bled 
And  stained  her  veil  a  crimson  red ! 


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She  laid  her  widowed  heart  to  rest 
Beneath  his  ancient  family  crest 
And  fled  to  France  'mid  war's  alarm 
To  wear  the  Red  Cross  on  her  arm, 
And  all  the  horrors  that  befell 
She  left  her  diary  to  tell, 
Inscribed  unto  the  Goddess  far 
Of  Liberty,  her  guiding  star. 


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Dear  Goddess: 

Is  my  humble  part 
To  bind  the  flag  around  my  heart, 
My  bleeding  heart,  and  sadly  bear 
The  red  cross  I  am  proud  to  wear? 
My  bridal  veil  is  stained  with   red 
Where  gushed  the  life  blood  of  my  dead, 
My  Belgian  bridegroom,  noble,  brave, 
Who  sleeps  in  yonder  tear  washed  grave! 
The  long,  long  days  have  come  and  gone 
And  still  my  life  is  throbbing  on 
In  anguish,  pain,  and  dumb  despair 
Because  my  heart  is  bleeding  where 
Fair  Belgium's  martyred  children  lie 
Beneath  the  war  god's  blood  stained  sky — 
Cease,  sorrow,  cease!  be  silent,  pain! 
Let  my  young  heart  be  glad  again! 


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I've  tried  so  hard  to  live  and  bear — 
The  red  cross  in  my  soul  I  wear! 
Amid    the   din   of    battle   strife 
The  vision  leads;  my  wretched  life, 
A  living  cross,  I  daily  bring 
To  scenes  of  human  suffering. 


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But  still  doth  Jules'  dear  face  appear, 
And  in  my  soul  I  seem  to  hear 
A  voice  that  cries — "The  earth  must  be 
Made  safe  for  world  democracy!" 
And  then  I  feel  that  I  must  bear 
This  searching  message  everywhere 
But  know  not  how.     How  can  I  speak, 
A  helpless  widowed  bride  so  weak! 
How  can  I  make  the  people  hear 
The  dying  cry  that  pierced  my  ear 
When  cold  in  death  my  bridegroom  lay 
Beneath  God's  altar  that  cruel  day! 


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Last  night  the  vision  haunted  me. 
From  troubled  dreams  I  'woke  to  see, 
With  beating  heart  and  feeling  tense, 
The  war  lord's  mighty   armaments 
Pass  in  parade — while  in  the  skies 
Great  vultures  with  their  bloody  eyes 
Screamed  loud;  "The  fittest  must  survive, 
The  vulture  brood  will  be  alive 
Until  the  end!"     Then  Freedom  sang; 
Through  all  the  world  her  echoes  sprang 
And  hurled  the  vultures  from  the  air! 
I  felt  those  echoes,  sweet  and  rare, 
Within  my  soul,  insistent,  strong, 
Burst  into  patriotic  song! 
But  when  I  woke  I  felt  so  weak, 
Great  tears  were  running  down  my  cheek, 
For  how  could  I,  a  wretched  thing, 
Forget  my  sacred  grief  and  sing? 


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I'm  writing  in  an  arbor  here. 
The  lily  buds  are  just  as  dear, 
The  blushing  roses  just  as  red — 
They  do  not  know  that  he  is  dead! 
Nor  dare  I  tell  them,  for  they  bring 
A  balm  to  ease  my  suffering. 
They  seem  to  breathe  into  my  ear 
The  words  I  dearly  loved  to  hear 
When  Jules  placed  on  my  yearning  breast 
The  violets  I  loved  the  best. 
"They  speak  the  language  of  your  eyes," 
He  whispered — how  I  love  and  prize 
His  precious  words,  they  greet  me  here 
Among  my  flower  friends  so  dear; 
For,  somehow,  he  is  with  me  yet — 
And,  for  a  moment,  I  forget! 


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This  morning  trouble  thus  took  wing 

And  strangely  I  began  to  sing 

America — alas,  'twas  then 

That  sorrow  sought  her  nest  again. 

But  music  would  not  let  me  go, 

I  felt  great  echoes  through  me  flow; 

And  then,  at  last,  my  soul  was  free, 

Those  sympathetic  chords  in  me, 

Those  vibrant  chords,  insistent,  strong, 

Burst  forth  in  patriotic  song! 


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Dear  Madam  B  across  the  way 

O'erheard  the  song  and  came  to  say, 
With  gentle  voice  and  accents  kind, 
"Dear  child,  let  Loving  Service  bind 
Your  bleeding  heart,  and  nobly  lift 
Humanity  with  your  great  gift. 
Your  voice  is  pure  and  sweet  and  rare, 
Your  songs  will  help  our  soldiers  bear 
Their  pain — you  must  not  hide  your  light! 
We  need  your  voice  to  win  the  fight 
And  send  our  heroes  back  again 
A  mighty  victory  to  gain." 


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And,  goddess,  could  I  ever  choose 

Such  welcome  counsel  to  refuse, 

Or,  in  my  grief,  neglect  to  hear 

What  in  my  vision  seemed  so  clear? 

And  so  I've  joined  the  souls  that  wear 

The  red  cross,  and  the  maidens  fair 

Who  sooth  the  fevered  brow  of  pain 

And  double  share  of  blessings  gain. 

My  feet  I  consecrate  to  go 

In  mercy  down  each  suffering  row, 

And  join  the  kindly  voices  sweet 

That  soothe ;  and  to  the  smiles  that  greet 

Our  convalescing  heroes  there 

And  give  brave  souls  new  strength  to  bear, 

I'll  add  my  special  gift  of  song 

To  help  my  country's  cause  along. 

'Tis  thus  I'll  do  my  little  part — 

I'll  bind  the  flag  about  my  heart 

And  sing  our  nation's  songs  so  dear 

Our  wounded  soldiers'  hearts  to  cheer. 

God  grant  that  I  may  sing  them  well! 

Your  loving  daughter, 

— June  ChapelU 


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II 


Dear  Goddess: 

When  his  wan  face  lay 
In  Belgian  soil  that  cruel  dark  day, 
And  banks  of  fragrant  flowers  sweet 
Lay  on  the  fresh  mound  at  my  feet, 
I  thought  my  aching  heart  would  break, 
And  prayed  for  God  to  come  and  take 
My  life  and  let  the  rootlets  bind 
Our  hearts  together.     It  was  kind 
Of  Heaven  to  refuse  my  plea — 
Our  soldier  boys  are  dear  to  me, 
I  sing  the  songs  they  love  to  hear 
Their  convalescing  souls  to  cheer, 
And  hover  o'er  their  beds  of  pain 
To  win  them  back  to  life  again. 


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Oh  that  my  lips  should  ever  tell 
The  horrors  that  about  them  fell 
When  first  the  war  lord  shook  his  mane 
And  loosed  this  fearful  hurricane! 
The  northern  sky  was  black  with  woe — 
We  saw  the  bloody  rivers  flow ! 
Grim  specters  grasped  with  bony  hands 
Great  scythes  that  swept  the  stricken  lands; 
And  steel-ribbed  vultures  from  the  air 
Hurled  death  and  terror  everywhere, 
While  grinning  skulls  spit  deadly  flame — 
'Twas  thus  the  ruthless  Terror  came! 
Five  million  victims  snatched  from  sleep! 
Five  million  wives  to  starve  and  weep! 
And  frightened  hordes  of  orphans  fair, 
Robbed  of  sweet  home  and  love  and  care — 
These,  these,  the  war  lord's  fearful  toll 
Of  helpless  life  and  blasted  soul, 
Aye,  these,  a  fearful,  fearful  sight, 
Gleamed  ghastly  'gainst  the  whirling  night! 
And  it  was  doubly  hard  to  sing 
Because  this  spectral,  gruesome  thing, 
With  bloody  talons,  lingered  near — 
The  very  stones  were  cold  with  fear! 


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You  know  the  rest ;  those  battle  lines, 
From  deadly  marsh  to  fortressed  pines, 
Like  some  bruised  serpent's  writhing  tail, 
Refused  to  die — of  what  avail 
Our  blows,  when  but  the  fading  gold 
Could  make  that  writhing  serpent  cold  ? 
Speed,  Western  Eagle,  speed  on  high 
And  pierce  the  serpent's  deadly  eye! 


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Last  night  I  dreamed  the  planet,  Mars, 

Arose  and  marshalled  all  his  stars, 

And  thought,  "Are  Freedom's  stars  all  there, 

And  will  my  Jules  arise  to  bear 

His  flag,  through  deadly  shells,  on  high 

To  victory — and  still  not  die?" 

And  then  I  longed  on  wings  of  light 

To  pierce  the  dismal  realms  of  night 

And  beg  the  warrior  stars  to  tell 

Where  I  can  find  my  Jules  Chapelle; 

And,  longing  thus,  my  soul  grew  strong, 

And  suddenly  burst  into  song, 

And  through  my  grief,  half  song,  half  prayer, 

I  breathed  these  words  into  the  air: 


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Jules  Chapellc 

Where  can  I  find  my  Jules  Chapelle? 

His  old  ancestral  chapel  bell 

Was  crushed  with  grief  to  see  us  part, 

The  stars  of  Heaven  envy  me 

His  image  treasured  in  my  heart — 

Speak,  speak,  kind  friends,  and  quickly  tell 

Where  I  can  find  my  Jules  Chapelle. 


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Sorrows  of  a  Red  Cross  Nurse 


Refrain  : 

Ye  tyrants,  with  your  deadly  keels, 
And  ruthless  airships  strong, 
Ye  autocrats,  whose  iron  heels 
Dance  to  the  war  god's  song — 
O  God  of  mercy  shrive  ye  well! 
Ye  killed  my  Jules  Chapelle! 


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Where  can  I  find  my  Jules  Chapelle? 

Beneath  God's  sacred  shrine  he  fell, 

And  stained  my  bridal  veil  with  red, 

As  cruelly,  o'er  my  swooning  breast, 

I  felt  the  life  blood  of  my  dead — 

Speak,  speak,   kind   friends,   and  quickly  tell 

Where  I  can  find  my  Jules  Chapelle. 


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Refrain  : 

Ye  tyrants,  with  your  deadly  keels, 
And  ruthless  airships  strong, 
Ye  autocrats,  whose  iron  heels 
Dance  to  the  war  god's  song — 
O  God  of  mercy  shrive  ye  well! 
Ye  killed  my  Jules  Chapelle! 


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Scarce  had  the  echoes  died  away 
Than  heaven  grew  more  light  than  day 
And   thy  great  torch,  a-blazing  far, 
Extinguished  every  warrior  star. 
Then  came  a  kind  sweet  voice  and  low 
That  murmured,   "Do  not  sorrow  so, 
My  child,  your  gift  of  song  we  need 
Our  wounded  hero-souls  to  feed — 
Go,  show  your  light,  you  must  not  fail, 
Go  tell  the  soldiers  your  sad  tale!" 
And  truly,  though  the  joy  is  brief, 
In  singing  I  forget  my  grief — 
I've  sung  a  hundred  times,  and  more; 
I've  told  my  story  o'er  and  o'er 
Thy  holy  vision  to  obey, 
And  still  I'm  singing  every  day! 
Pray  God  to  keep  me  strong  and  well, 
Your  loving  daughter, 

— June  Chapelle 


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III 


Dear  Goddess: 

How  the  long  days  roll 
Their  restless  waves  into  my  soul 
And  cast  their  shells  upon  the  sand. 
I  stand  alone  upon  the  strand 
And  seek  a  fount  my  soul  to  ease 
Where  nature  shrives  God's  unities. 
And  then  I  find  my  arbor  seat 
Our  fragrance  breathing  friends  to  greet. 


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But  still  my  heart  is  never  glad. 
In  gladness  I  am  always  sad, 
For  sorrow  has  espoused  the  day 
The  war  god  tore  my  love  away; 
And   every  night   and   every  morn 
The  progeny  of  grief  is  born 
And  sorrow's  infant  brood  of  care, 
With  sad  weird  faces  fills  the  air. 


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But  often  when  the  sun  sinks  low 

And  God's  cathedral  windows  glow 

I  somehow  feel  my  Jules  is  there, 

And  lo!  my  soul  is  winged  with  prayer! 

Then  when  the  moon  looks  through  the  trees 

And  zephyrs  fan  the  evening  breeze, 

I  suddenly  begin  to  weep, 

And,  weeping,  sob  myself  to  sleep. 


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But  in  my  dreams  dark  shadows  fall — 
I  seem  to  hear  the  distant  call 
Of  voices,   friends  of  long  gone  by 
Speak  to  my  heart;  and  then  I  cry, 
"Oh,  take  me  from  lone  sorrow's  peak 
The  fellowship  of  souls  to  seek!" 


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But  when  I  find  sweet  friendship's  beach 
The  gladness  that  my  soul  would  reach 
Is  driftwood  on  a  wave  washed  shore 
That  floods  into  the  deep  once  more, 
And  memory's  heaving,  restless  tide 
Comes  rolling  in  on  every  side, 
And  joy's  brief  footprints  in  the  sand 
Are  buried — all  alone  I  stand, 
While  from  the  deep  sad  voices  cry 
And  storms  of  grief  go  rushing  by! 


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One  night  when  sleep  thus  deluged  me 

With  anguished  dreams  I  woke  to  see 

Thy  beauteous  guardian  form  appear. 

The  torch  of  truth  dispersing  fear 

Illumed  my  soul  and  showed  the  way 

And  where  my  duty  lay  each  day; 

How  every  grief  and  wrong  I  bore 

Would  help  my  country  win  the  war; 

And  lo!  a  pure  revealing  light, 

A  patriotic  vision  bright, 

Illumed  my  mountain  peak,  and  peace 

Bade  sorrow's  restless  voices  cease! 

And  that  transcendent  healing  ray 

Now  leads  my  soul  from  day  to  day. 

In  sorrow  I  am  not  so  sad; 

Remembered  joys  now  make  me  glad; 

The  morning  star  in  grief's  dark  skies 

Gleams  where  my  martyred  bridegroom  lies — 

Hail,  victory!  proclaim  the  dawn! 

The  night  of  grief  at  last  is  gone! 


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And,  Goddess,  from  my  mountain  height, 
I  see  by  the  revealing  light 
The  unity  of  God's  great  plan 
And  feel  the  brotherhood  of  man. 
I've  sung  and  nursed  and  labored  sore 
On  twenty  battlefields — and  more; 
I've  helped  the  wounded  soldiers  rise 
To  drive  the  war  god  from  the  skies 
And  fight  for  world  democracy. 
Tradition  can  no  longer  be 
Man's  guiding  star — o'er  earth's  dark  ways 
We've  made  the  torch  of  Freedom  blaze ! 


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The  world  has  reached  the  mountain  height 
Where  in  the  pure  revealing  light 
Of  thy  great  torch  our  eyes  can  see 
The  dawn  of  World  Democracy. 
Oh,  may  we  soon  behold  the  morn 
That  this  new  world  of  love  is  born; 
For  then  across  life's  stormy  sea 
My  yearning  heart  will  turn  to  thee, 
With  thee,  in  my  own  land  to  dwell, 
Your  loving  daughter, 

— June  Chapelle 


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IV 

Dear  Goddess: 

It  has  come  at  last, 
The  war  god  from  the  sky  is  cast. 
The  nations  of  the  earth  are  free 
To  form  a  world  democracy! 
I'm  in  Versailles — 'tis  heaven  here, 
The  golden  age  is  surely  near. 
A  world-united  Parliament, 
To  which  the  nations  all  have  sent 
Their  greatest  minds,  has  met  to  find 
A  Constitution  of  Mankind; 
And  they  have  brought  me  here  to  sing 
In  honor  of  their  opening. 


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Last  night  once  more  thy  vision  fair 
Of  Freedom  cried — "Arise,  and  bear 
The  flag  of  Nations!  'Rise  and  sing 
The  Anthem  of  the  World !   'Twill  ring 
From  land  to  land  and  sea  to  sea 
For  brotherhood  and  liberty!" 
And  lo!  with  far  exalted  gaze 
I  saw  o'er  ocean's  waterways 
Great  merchant  ships  in  triumph  bear 
Earth's  mighty  commerce  everywhere, 
And  in  the  entrance  to  each  land 
I  saw  Bartholdi's  statue  stand. 


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The  outlook  faded  then — but  see! 
Thy  beauteous  form  still  beckoned  me, 
A  sky  blue  banner  in  her  hand 
Inlaid  with  flags  of  every  land. 
"This  Flag  of  Nations  you  must  bring 
To  yon  great  hall",  she  cried,  "and  sing 
Fair  Freedom's  anthem  of  the  world 
When  this  pure  banner  is  unfurled!" 
And  then  I  heard  a  marv'lous  thing, 
The  very  heavens  seemed  to  ring 
And  angel  voices  echoed  long 
The  world's  new  patriotic  song: 


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Sorrows  of  a  Red  Cross  Nurse 


ANTHEM    OF    MANKIND 

Our  country  of  the  World 
Thy   noble  flag  unfurled 
Proclaims  thy  fame, 
Let   all   the   nations   be 
Allied  for  liberty, 
A  World  Democracy, 
In  thy  great  name. 


41 


Sorrows  of  a  Red  Cross  Nurse 


Our  Country  of  the  World 

The  germ  of  peace  lies  curled 

In  thy  wise  laws: 

Let  freedom  rule  the  sea; 

Let  no  race  alien  be; 

Let  world-leagued  liberty 

Be  thy  great  cause. 


42 


Sorrows  of  a  Red  Cross  Nurse 

Our  Country  of  the  World 
The  god   of  war  is  hurled 
From  his  high  place; 
Let  arbitration's  might 
Maintain  what's  just  and  right, 
And  freedom's  torch  gleam  bright 
On  every  race! 


43 


Sorrows  of  a  Red  Cross  Nurse 


This  morning  ere  the  trance  could  fade 
With  my  own  hands  I  quickly  made 
The  Flag  of  Nations  which  I  bore 
In  triumph  through  that  palace  door; 
Nor  can  my  tongue  find  words  to  tell 
The  patriotic  zeal  that  fell 
Upon  that  Congress  of  the  World 
When  thy  great  banner  was  unfurled; 
Nor  could  my  voice  more  ferver  find 
To  sing  the  Anthem  of  Mankind ! 


44 


Sorrows  of  a  Red  Cross  Nurse 


Rejoice!  rejoice!  the  victory's  won! 
We're  happy  for  our  work  is  done; 
We're  happy   for  we're  coming  home — 
And  all  your  soldier  boys  will  come! 
So  watch  for  us,  we  love  you  well, 
Your  loving  daughter, 

— June   Chapelle 


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M191991 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


